Hatachi
by Claidi Winter
Summary: Bunny Lune has just learned that she is the crime-fighting superhero Sailor Moon, but she still has to graduate from college! - A world where Bunny doesn't become Sailor Moon until her twenties; a darker, older take on the SM series. Full sum before ch 1.
1. Prolouge

Hey Guys! I'm finally back into fan fiction writing action! Let me know what you guys think of my new stuff! Missed you all!!

FULL Summary:

Bunny Lune has just learned that she is the crime-fighting superhero Sailor Moon, but she's really not too happy about it.

Bunny's not in high school anymore, in fact she's almost out of college. With the burgeoning responsibilities of adulthood already feeling like the weight of the world, Earth's actual fate is the last thing she wants or needs on her cocktail tray. Bunny wants to do the right thing, but the evil that she fights terrifies her, not to mention takes a harsh toll on her body and mind. All the while the unsuspecting "real" world continues to make its demands on her (as if saving it weren't enough) it's not long before Bunny feels herself starting to break under the pressure. Knowing that she absolutely can't fight alone, Bunny follow her feline guardian, Luna, on a quest to find her fellow Sailor Soldiers, other girls her age with powers like her own.

And then there's the smooth and sexy Tuxedo Mask, a mysterious man who seems to come to her aid whenever she's in trouble… and sometimes when she's not. Luna doesn't trust him, and though she's trusted Luna this far, she can't help but feel that the strange talking cat isn't telling her everything there is to know about her new found powers, the evil that they're fighting against, and even Bunny herself…

Claidi Winter

HATACHI

Prologue

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I never really considered myself that interesting of a person.

No I'm sorry that's a lie. I find myself VERY interesting – who doesn't? Show me one human being who isn't completely obsessed with themselves? I'm not trying to be critical, we can't really help it, it's like we're all living one really long, mostly boring book that needs A LOT of editing to get to the good stuff.

I'm sorry, I digressed, I'm a writer and my thinking can be kind of all over the place. You'd think I'd be better focused in talking about my own life since I want to make a living out of cutting OUT all the boring parts that I mentioned - out of just giving you the good stuff. I'm sorry; I'll try to do that. I also tend to apologize a lot, so you're going to have to bear with me there as well.

Ok, the good stuff, actually 'relevant' would be a better word – My name is Bunny Lune, (YOU go to middle school with that name, I dare you) I'm twenty-one, a college senior, and I recently found out that I'm a super hero.

No, not the 'change-maker, donating my eggs to the spawn producing challenged,' kind of hero, or the 'giving my kidney just so some other kid can live' kind of way, (that episode of Grey's Anatomy was totally unrealistic, in my opinion.) No, I am an honest to god, slutty outfit wearing, sparkly Frisbee of death throwing, talking cat sidekick toting kind of super hero.

If you're thinking to yourself, "awesome!" right now, I suggest you go get your tubes tied (or your junk snipped) right now, just to lessen the chance of anyone else being born who is as dumb as you.

Ok sorry, that was kind of rude. But if you had the month *I* had and someone said to you that they thought being a super hero was 'awesome,' I wouldn't hold you accountable for your words or actions in the following moments.

My point is that I *used* to think that I was a pretty interesting person (all writers do.) A month ago I thought life and my problems were tantamount to global warming, but about a month ago I found out how wrong I was.

Global warming doesn't have shit on my life.

I hate to tell you this; not only does global warming not have shit on my life, but if I were making a list of stuff the world should be worrying about, the ice caps probably wouldn't even get an honorable mention.

I know all that stuff about a Frisbee and cats probably made no sense to you; I wish it didn't to me. Don't worry I'll explain everything, but first I'd like to take a moment to vent.

When I was a child I was actually a really sweet. Kind of bratty, kind of selfish, but what kid isn't? All in all I would say I was a genuinely nice, caring girl up until about high school. I was too nice and too caring for my own good. So blah, blah, blah, sad story the heart on my sleeve got broken, my trusting nature taken advantage of, and now... all that stuff is still there I guess, just a lot harder to get at than my sleeve. But what can you do? I'm not a big believer in crying over spilled milk, so I'd picked myself up and moved on.

From then up until now, I really actually kind of liked my life. My biggest worries were finding a job after college, putting the final touches on my thesis, and making enough in tips at my cocktailing job to go out partying that weekend with my friends. In that order.

Ok wait, the way I put that makes it sound like I didn't have a lot going on and being a superhero added some much needed excitement to my life. INCORRECT. What I SHOULD say is that I ALREADY had to worry about finding a job AS A WRITER after college, FINISHING my very LONG thesis on which my graduation from college is depending, and making tips at my very low-end, really seedy bar job, from really nasty, cheep, drunk, leering men. (I really hate that freaking job.) And yes, maybe the fact that my main motivation in making that money is a night of drinking, but that night is (was) the one night a week I had to myself and my friends.

Ok. Thanks for that. I'm sure what you really want to hear about is the superhero crap, but I just wanted to emphasize just how much I already had going on, and how much I had already gone through. The last thing I needed on top of all of this was a freaking mission.

So now I'll tell you all about the magic Frisbees, and the cat and the slutty costume (which is actually the only thing in this whole messed up fairytale that's worked in my favor,) oh yeah, and the evil that I now know exists. The evil that is threatening to destroy this Earth, or rather, everything we love about this Earth. It gains strength and nourishment from the feeling serial killers get when they slit their victims throats, it finds its laughter in the screams of innocent people trapped inside burning buildings, it relishes in the sound of a smothered baby's death rattle. The evil that I, twenty-one year old party girl Bunny Lune, am one of the sole able fighters against.

I'm sorry; the world is probably doomed.

But if you think all that sounds bad, wait until I tell you about Darien Shields – the shit-flavored icing on my already none too appetizing cake. Now HE is what I call evil.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey guys! Just a minor note, I've changed her name from Serena to Bunny since I'm basing this primarily on the Manga... and I always thought it was dumb that they never put two and two together that SERENA was Princess SERENITY. Bunny is also more true to the Japanese which I like as well.

That being said, I hope you enjoy Chapter 1! I don't own Sailor Moon or Bones.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Claidi Winter

HATACHI

Chapter 1

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing you need to know about Darien Shields is that he is the worst human being alive. The second is that he is drop dead gorgeous, which is part of the reason why he's the worst human being alive.

I met Darien my freshman year of college. I had the incredible bad luck to have him as my Residential Advisor, the RA for the floor of the dorm I lived on. I also had the incredible lack of cognizance (or second sight as I like to call it now) to recognize that Darien is actually - a huge dick. No really. To normal, every day humans, he seems like a very charming, very hot, very sexy... very well built, very smart guy... With a Patrick Dempsey head of hair, and gorgeous dark blue eyes that seem to constantly twinkle with the knowledge of all the ways he could make you scream... Not that I would know, or think about it much... Sadly, it's all a lie. Darien is, in reality, just a dick. (Recognizing Darien's true nature as that of a giant penis should have been my first sign that I was not a normal every day human. Unfortunately, that lovely revelation was saved for an even more stressful time in my life.) To those of us with the second sight, a sight that allows you to actually see people for what they really are, know that if the rest of the world could see clearly, they would just see a giant penis walking around, not the gorgeous man known as Darien Shields. Right now that little club only includes myself, but I'm a good saleswoman, (you have to be to squeeze even one penny from the cheapos that frequent the bar I work at) and I am confident that sooner or later my recruitment efforts on my friends will pay off and they'll see the light too.

ALL of my friends, (all three of them) for reasons I cannot understand, really like Darien. My theory at first was that they just couldn't see beyond his hotness to the jerk that lay underneath, but they've dismissed other men, equally hot, as jerks, and it seems that they believe that those men are really giant penises just as firmly as I believe it of Darien. But no, not only do they NOT see it in him; they actually think he's a NICE GUY. And that *I* should "get over" whatever it was that made me hate him in the first place. I try to explain that I don't hate him, I just saw him early on for what he really is. A giant penis. (I just like saying it.)

Do I actually see a giant penis when I look at Darien Shields? No. I wish I did so that I could fall off my bar stool laughing whenever he walked by to talk with my friends or the bartender Andrew (who, in another unfortunate twist of fate, is actually Darien's best friend.) No, instead my interactions with Darien usually leave HIM smirking his big dick face off, and me storming away to the bathroom, or to the bar's backdoor stairwell to smoke a cigarette and calm down.

Sometimes I flirt with Andrew if he's having a smoke break too. We're not involved, but our flirtation is harmless. It's like my flirtation with smoking: it takes the edge off, but I've never gotten in deep enough to catch a disease. Andrew sure as heck doesn't mind my using him, and I think he likes to entertain the idea of having sex with me more than he would like to actually have sex with me. Andrew always loses interest in girls after he's bedded them, no matter how long they were dating. It frustrates him to no end since he can never have sex with the girls he really likes for fear of ending their relationship. Well under that line of reasoning maybe Andrew's flirtation with me isn't as harmless as I thought... But even if that were true I wouldn't feel too bad about it, Andrew is by no means lonely, and his bed is none the colder without me in it.

Anyway sorry, I got off topic again. My point was that I wish I could just laugh in Darien's face and be done with it. But something about the man just scratches at my insides. I can't NOT engage in the child-like bickering (that HE insights,) and I can't NOT throw my drink in his face before I storm off. I know all of our squabbling is just hilarious for my friends, and even Andrew gets a kick out of it when every now and then I win our mocking arguments. Mostly my line of defense is the same: "You're a huge dick."

Which brings me to my reasons why Darien is the worst human being – ever. I'll start with the small stuff. Whenever I am having what are *supposed* to be private conversations with my friends about a man's lower region and our experiences with that terrain, he eavesdrops and then makes it very clear that he's sure I could never know about any such thing because no man would ever touch me with a ten foot pole. He's never really framed it so brutally, but I get the gist. I get it. The joke is that I'm a virgin because I'm gross. Well I'm not a virgin and I'm rarely gross (mornings after... hangovers. I think girls are allowed to be gross for those) and he's the one that's a joke! (That's usually how my retort for that one ends before I stomp off.)

Still not the worst thing in the world, but there's more. Any chance he gets he lords over me how much women want HIM. Yes I know thank you, I lived on your floor for a year, and saw the revolving door that was your bedroom you moron. Why does he do this? To make it look like to everyone else in the room that he could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and that he CLEARLY did not want me. He CONSTANTLY makes fun of my hair, my make-up, my GRADES, my drinking habits, and of course, my writing. He has never read it to verify that it's bad because according to him, "the time it would take me to read it would be time I'd never get back." Jackass.

But at the end of the day all of that stuff is just a blip on the Darien Is A Jerk Radar. You want to know the real reason for all of this? Here it is. Freshman year I had my drink drugged by a stranger at a club. I was drugged on top of being already incredibly drunk, and Jason (my boyfriend) made the horrible mistake of turning to Darien for help. He didn't realize how sick I was until we got back to the dorm; Darien was my RA and the RA on duty that night. It was his job to get us to a hospital, and according to university policy if you tell an RA that you're in need of medical assistance or that someone else is in trouble, they can't write you up for the substances you used.

Darien point blank refused to help Jason help me. My life was in danger, and Darien basically told him that he didn't give a damn about what happened to me or what university policy was. Jason had to call 911 himself, without the protection that an RA guaranteed, and escort me to the hospital while Darien was busy notifying the dean of the building. I was kicked out of housing and have had to work my ass off ever since to afford New York City's obscenely over priced housing on a waitresses' salary.

So now though you probably agree with me about Darien, I'm sure you're also thinking that if he'd done that to you, you would have never even talk to him again, even to argue, and that there's no way my friends could ever think he was a 'nice guy' after doing that to me.

My girlfriends, Raye and Molly, don't know the whole story. We didn't become friends until later, I ran with a much different crowd back then. Andrew knows the story, but he also knows me.

Which is what the worst part of all of this is. Me.

The reason I still talk to him is... me. The son of a bitch shoved me in front of a bus, and he's still in my life, albeit in a very negative way. Why? Why else? I'm in love with him. I was then and I still am now. Me. I'm my biggest reason for why Darien is the worst human being on Earth.

Sorry for that little bout of self-pity, but you try being in love with someone who hates you. Don't get me wrong; I'm not completely pathetic. If I still followed him around like a puppy dog (like I did even while I was dating Jason,) that would be pathetic. I'm actually really proud of my ability to compartmentalize when it comes to Darien. I'm clearly not a nun; I've even had a few relationships over my college years. They were all pretty short lived, but still, they were all little triumphs for me, proof that I could have a life with someone other than Darien. It's also the strangest feeling to be in love with someone so deeply, and yet know and accept that said person is probably the worst person out there for you. I have no illusions about having any kind of relationship with Darien; actually I cringe at the thought. Who wants a boyfriend who would leave you flat like he did to me those few years ago? And yet, here I sit, craving him like a long recovered attic still craves her drug of choice, not matter how many years she's gone without it.

I know I promised to tell you about my life as a superhero, but all this stuff with Darien is relevant, I promise. If it seems like I'm dodging telling you about my life as Sailor Moon (my super hero name, I know it's pretty lame, don't worry I'll explain that too) then that's probably because I am. A lot of it... the things I've seen, the things I've felt... the things I've *heard*... It's not something I think to think of very often. If I'm referring to talking about Darien as something easier to do than talk about this... If you knew me then you'd know that it means it's pretty bad. Darien *is* significant in all of this, or my feelings about him are anyway, as are my friends, so I should tell you a little about them too before I get into the heroics to which I am indentured.

If you asked me I say that Molly was my best friend, in the traditional sense. She's the kind of friend who will call you every day, even if it's just to tell you about how she spilled nail polish all over her floor and what a bitch it's been to clean up, and will listen to a similar story with the same amount of interest as she had while telling hers. This may sound boring, but it's reassuring to know that you have someone to talk about that kind of day to day stuff with, someone with whom you can share the small details of your life. We often joke that we're married and I really do think that if I liked women we would be by now. Molly actually had it bad for me when we first met, and I "allowed" me to experiment with kissing her a few times, but after the second (third?) time I found that women just weren't my cup of tea. I just loved the penis, even if I mostly didn't like the people attached to them. Molly got over me pretty fast once she realized that I would never be able to reciprocate her feelings. Who wants someone who has absolutely no interest in them? Oh that's right, sad little masochistic me. Anyway, my friendship with Molly flourished after that, and now we're just two pees in a platonic pod (even though her eyes still linger on my figure a moment too long whenever I change clothes with her in the room.)

I already told you about Andrew, so that brings me to Raye. Raye is the kind of girl who you hate the moment you meet her, because she is just so fucking gorgeous, there's no way she's *not* a bitch. I never got along with girls like Raye in middle school and high school, so when I met her two years ago, I wasn't expecting to get along with a glamazon like her in college either. Raye has rich black hair, always cut and styled to wispy banged perfection. She has a gorgeous natural tan, and her deep eyes almost appear violet in the right light. She wears Moulin Rouge-red lipstick almost every day, and no matter what she wears she looks like she should be on the cover of Maxim. Molly would hate me if she knew I described Raye to a T without ever mentioning one red hair on Molly's reasonably pretty head, but I just wanted to make clear how sure I was that I would hate this girl, and her looks were the main factor in that assumption.

But Raye ended up surprising me. Actually I think it was more that I surprised myself when I found interacting with her almost easy. I wasn't wrong about her, she's definitely what most would consider a huge bitch, but I found that it was in a kind of way that I could admire. She's never mean for mean's sake - something has to motivate it. It was Raye who showed me that what people like to write off as 'bitchy,' is, a lot of the time, just self-assuredness. Which Raye has in spades. She also has a big temper, and most of our interactions with each other are snarky insults. It might seem like a superficial friendship from the outside, but in a way I feel much closer to her than I ever did to Molly. Actually I felt a deep connection with her almost instantly, one I never really understood until very recently. I was never less than absolutely positive that Raye would forever be fiercely loyal to me.

None of this may seem relevant to you now, but I promise that it all is. It's kind of weird to talk about it all: my life as I knew it just four weeks ago. But everything is different now... and yet frustratingly the same. Now I'll tell you about my life, as I know it now. It all started one night after work when a little black cat crossed my path. I have one piece of advice about that: if you see a black cat, walk the other way...

And no matter what you do, don't talk to it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sky was pitch black, and I was freezing in the short-sleeved low cut shirt and tight thin jeans that comprise my uniform. I had gone outside to throw a load of garbage into one of the huge bins out behind Bob's Beer Barn, the NYC dive bar I have the misfortune to work at. The name couldn't be more fitting. The bar, as far I was concerned, was a just that: a big barn full of barnyard animals – snorting and slobbering and cock-a-doodle-dooing over the alcohol and any misguided girls who entered the bar for any reason other than employment. Not that they didn't try their hand with me, they did, I just tried to make it as clear as is politely possible that if they tried anything they might not get their hands back.

That's an empty threat for the most part. There's not much I could do that would actually physically injure a human being. I'm only about five foot five (though this was definitely an upgrade from the four foot eleven I had been sure, until I was about sixteen, that I would never grow out of.) And though I am by no means petite (my breasts and hips make that impossible) I am still laughable as any kind of physical opponent.

I thought I heard something rattle far away from where I had thrown the trash, but in this city if you hear a noise you don't recognize, you don't investigate it. This should have been the damn bus boy's job, but he hadn't shown up for work in a couple days, and until they could find a replacement his duties fell to me. I heaved the second bag over the side of the bin, trying my best not to smell the odors wafting my way. Unfortunately the bag wasn't tied very tightly, and it came undone as I threw it. I had to duck to escape a few flying pieces of trash, which I did successfully.

Just as I was mumbling something derogatory about pimply-faced teenaged bus boys, I heard the same rattle I thought I'd heard before, but this time for sure. I checked the distance between the door and myself that led back to the bar – I could be easily accosted in the time it would take to get there. Without looking away from the source of the noise (the rustling had sounded again when I had looked away) my hand searched blindly for something to attack with, if need be. Finally my hand rested on a large wooden object. I picked it up, holding it like a bat, and recognized it as a piece of the bar that had broken off the night before in a fight. The wood was old, and had broken off from the edge of the bar when a two-hundred pound man was thrown against it, but of course it hadn't been a clean break, so now I could feel the splinters digging into my hands as I found myself clutching it, now actually more frightened than I had been before I had a weapon. My holding a weapon suggested to the fear trigger in my brain that I could possibly be engaging in a fight. I'd never fought any one before in my life, and my brain knew that I had very slim chances at winning any kind of altercation I might find myself in. I took a few backwards steps towards the door to the bar.

Whatever the thing was, (I shuttered at thinking "thing") it rattled again and my breathing increased as I tried to properly brace myself in a way I'm sure would have made anyone attacking me laugh rather than see me as any kind of threat. Suddenly something flashed quickly before my eyes, and before I could swing it had flown right past me. I screamed, sure I had been fatally stabbed or something else equally horrible, until I realized that I didn't feel any pain. Wait a sec... Flown?

I lowered my bat and turned to look behind me. Nothing. I looked up. Nothing. Of course then I looked down, and there, standing neatly in front of me was a small black kitty (the cutest freaking cat I had ever seen.) My attacker was a cat. Great. I dropped the wood and laughed to myself as I bent down to pat the cat's head. I don't know why, it was in all likelihood a stray and therefore unclean, but I've always found cats soothing, and I definitely needed soothing right now. I'd worked myself up into a state, and now my hands were sweating so hard I had to wipe them off on my jeans before stroking the cat's head. Now that I was on the level with it, I realized that it had a small band-aid stuck to its forehead. It kept reaching up with its paws, trying to swat it away not realizing what it was.

"You poor kitty!" I couldn't help but coo – it was so cute! "Here, let me get that for you," I said in my highest small-animal friendly voice. I reached down and pulled off the sticky plastic from the cat's head.

Gold filled my vision, and when it cleared suddenly I was in a ballroom, in a gorgeous dress dancing with the most handsome man I had never seen... We were in love.

Someone was screaming, people were running in every which way past me, my beautiful dress was in ruins, there was a flash of yellow and orange in front of me, and then red, and then a ball covered in long blonde hair rolled towards me, stopping at my feet. Cold blue eyes stared up at me from the severed head as if in an apology...

I was being pulled through a crowd, a warm hand tightly gripping one of my hands, a bloody silver sword in my other. People continued to scream, and run, and die all around me. The hand released mine, and my body was swept up into strong male arms. A soft, warm voice promised to protect me.

Then he was in my arms, my body bathed in his blood, the light slowly fading from his eyes. I was screaming, gripping his head as if it would make the huge hole through his chest disappear. He smiled and whispered something, lightly touching my face, and then he was gone.

I held the point of the ancient sword steadily against my chest, wondering if, when I pushed it through, I would feel anything at all? Did I have any more pain to offer this world, or I was really just as empty now as I felt? My love - my world – was gone... I would go with it.

And then I was back in the ally, with the garbage, and the cat who, with its band-aid removed, I could now see had a small crescent marking on its head.

"What the fucking hell was that?" Now that I had my bearings back, I was really, really freaked. I jumped up and away from the tiny cat, almost more afraid of it now than I had been of it when I thought it was a human ready to kill me.

Then the cat did the weirdest thing - it cocked its head to side, and leaned forward as if to examine me. After it did this, its eyes seemed to widen, and THEN, of all the impossibilities, it gave me an unmistakably disapproving look. I did not know that cats could look disapproving, but this one definitely did. Just as it looked like it was about to open it's mouth, the bar door flew open and my boss, Pete, popped his head out.

"Yo, Bunny, what are you doing back here? I heard some screaming..." Wow thanks boss, glad you could tear yourself away from whatever dumb girl you were flirting with this week to come check on me... ten minutes later.

"Hey, yeah, uhh I slipped," I explained lamely. Worst lie ever. Good thing Pete only thinks he's smart. But once I heard my voice again I was surprised at how shaky it sounded. That must have been the selling point because Pete didn't even bother to check for proof of my excuse.

"Oh damn I'm sorry. We'll have a new bus boy soon, I can't have... *you* keep smelling like garbage every time you work." Thanks again. What he would have said if he had any social graces at all would have been: "I can't have my best waitress smelling like garbage." But it would be a cold day in hell before Pete admitted to anyone at Bob's doing anything well other than himself.

"Anyway Danielle's not doing so great so you should wash up and get back out there." Danielle was one of my hapless co-workers. She was always absolutely confused about everything, or appeared to be, no matter how many times you explained something to her. It's probably why Pete didn't have her take out the trash; she would just stare at him like he was explaining rocket science, and ask so many dumb questions about the task he would just give up trying to get her to do it all. Hmm... Maybe Danielle was actually smarter than I gave her credit for. I was really starting to wish I had never come back here and touched that damn cat. Though the horrible things I saw... they couldn't possibly have come from it?

I threw one last accusatory glace back to the cat, but it was nowhere to be seen. That was fine with me; I turned on my heels and got the hell out of there.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Before I knew it, it was 4 AM and last call had come and gone. After wiping down my tables I sat down at the bar to count my money and was dismayed to find that I'd only made enough to keep about $150 for myself after tipping out Pete. I had no one to blame but myself for that though, I had practically been a zombie through the remainder of my shift after coming back from my weird encounter with the cat. The images I'd seen upset me so deeply that I had to periodically step into the bathroom to blot my eyes and touch up my mascara. I don't know what it was about them, but they made me sadder than anything I've ever seen (and *felt*) before. The emptiness that I – the girl – had felt before she stabbed herself was... overwhelming. I touched the spot right above the center of my breasts, the place the sword had gone through in my... vision. Or whatever it was. I had never felt such heartache in all my life, never known such a feeling, the feeling that comes with the knowledge of forever – lost forever.

"You OK there, Kid?" I shook a little to snap myself out of the little trance I had gone into to register what Dave, one of the bartenders was saying to me. The image of Dave was always pure sex to me, the man was beautiful, but tonight I wasn't in any kind of mindset to fully take in that beauty.

"Yeah babe, I'm fine. Just tired I guess." He didn't look fully convinced at my answer, but patted my shoulder and went on with his shift work all the same. I paid Pete, signed my check from the week before and gathered my things, putting on my coat for the walk home, though it did little good in warming me.

"You need me to walk you to the subway?" Dave called over his shoulder, on which he was supporting a huge create of vodka bottles. I allowed myself to admire his arm muscles, thought it still wasn't as gratifying as it usually was to do so, and shook my head.

"Nah thanks, Dave. I'll be fine. See you Wednesday!" I called. He nodded and disappeared behind the bar.

I braced myself for the cold October air as I walked out of Bob's and into the night. Patrons from the bars around ours were stumbling towards their own homes, or lover's homes, all around me, which was always amusing to watch. I frowned as I thought about how long it had been since I'd been with a man myself; it was going on a couple of months now. Not having sex for a while when you're used to having it pretty often is hard, my skin starts to buzz and I feel antsy all the time. The worst part was that it made it even harder for me to ignore my attraction to Darien whenever he was around, which was annoyingly often, and annoyingly not often enough. I sighed. I was such a freaking head case. For some reason the image of the dying man in my arms flashed in my mind's eye once more. Though his features were blurred in my head, his eyes were clear – deeply sad and yet, relieved? I shivered, and not from the cold.

The next thing I knew I was unlocking my apartment door, having zoned out the entire journey there. My roommate, Amy, was deep asleep by now, so I always had to take extra care in not making too much noise when I came home from work. Amy had moved in a few weeks ago, and I couldn't have been more relieved. It had been a month since my last roommate had moved out, leaving me with the entire rent for September, and I absolutely could not have afforded another month the apartment alone. Amy was quiet, but very sweet. I didn't know her all that well yet, but I found living with her to be extremely easy right from the get-go. She was definitely a curious chick – she too had a year to go in college, but unlike me she was extremely dedicated and enviously studious. Then again she was looking to get into med-school, whereas I was relishing in the fact that after this year I would be done with school forever – I think you have to really like school to want to be a doctor. She definitely wasn't a drag though, we liked the same TV shows and often watched them together (when she didn't have to study) and she had even come out to the bar once with Raye, Molly and I (when she didn't have homework that weekend.) From my description of her to Raye and Molly they had expected a shy, mousy girl with glasses and permanent worry lines etched in her forehead (which was a lot like how Amy had looked in high school based on some of the pictures on her dresser.) But Amy isn't anything like that anymore. She has a laid back business-bohemian style that I desperately wish I could pull off, and a short black pixie cut, dyed with electric blue streaks. And Amy may be quiet (which compared to Raye and I, 'quiet' is more like 'normal') but she's definitely not shy. We all had a blast together and I'd tried to get her to come out since, but midterms were coming up (in like, a month, jeez) and she of course had to study. I'll give Amy this, when she sets her mind to something, it is absolutely impossible to deter her. I had to respect that.

I shed my coat and clothing with relief, slipping into my favorite pair of pajamas (white ones with different kinds of sushi printed all over them) and under the covers without bothering to take off my make-up or brush my teeth. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

*~*~*~*

I was in the torn ballroom gown again, running for my life, flanked by two shadowed figures, one in blue and one in green. They were yelling to each other over my head, both of my arms linked in one of theirs on either side. I was out of breath and gasping for air, they were moving too fast for me but the pace didn't seem to bother them as much. I could make out only bits of what they were saying over the screams and shouting all around us.

"We have to get her to the prince before SHE arrives."

"Are you sure we can trust him? He's THEIR prince after all, it could be a trap!"

"We don't really have a choice any more, Jupiter, without..." She couldn't finish her sentence. "He's just our only chance right now. And... Venus..."

A building exploded nearby, we all ducked. I was in such shock that their voices sounded miles away.

"WHAT?"

"VENUS! She... she trusted him. She said that if anything—she said to take her to him."

They were silent for a moment before the green one said, "Well then that's what we'll do."

They must have been talking about me, or whosever mind I was in, it didn't quite feel like my own. We were off and running again when there was another blast. The girl on my right let go and shoved me towards the one on the left so strongly that we both fell to the ground. The girl still holding on to me – the one wearing green - tried to run back to the blue girl's side, but some kind of blue shield projected by the latter's hand prevented her from doing so. She cursed but the other girl ignored her.

"Get her out of her – NOW!"

With that she turned towards the source of the blast, another blast of blue surging from her hands. But immediately as she did so a blast of crackling black light met her attack – the blue light was almost instantly over come, and the girl fell limp to the ground.

*~*~*~*

I woke up screaming.

As soon as I realized I was awake and that I had been dreaming I reached for the light – and screamed again. There, sitting at the end of my bed, was the small crescent-spotted black cat.

"Are the theatrics really necessary? I am just a cat for God's sake," the cat said in a very high and oddly proper voice.

Huh?

I blinked. Did the cat just... talk? I shook my head and lay back down. I must still be dreaming. "Good night!"

"Bunny, this isn't a dream."

"That's what all my dreams say," I retorted. Take that, dream. And then the cat scratched my arm.

"Hey!" I jumped up and rubbed where she (the cat sounded female) had scratched. It was red but not really bleeding. "Hey that really hurt---" Click. "Oh my God..."I stared at the cat. She stared back. I swallowed. "This isn't a dream?"

The cat shook her head.

"You're really a talking cat?"

"Yes, I'm really a talking cat."

"Oh my God." I repeated. I still didn't fully accept that I wasn't dreaming, but my arm stung pretty good, and it sure as hell felt like I was awake; other than the fact that I was talking to a cat. I looked at her again, her eyes were blue, and they actually appeared to look wise. "What are you?" I asked after another good long stare.

"I'm exactly what you think, an intelligent, fully cognizant talking cat... Bunny you should get your brain to accept that as quickly as possible, because I'm here to tell you a lot other things that are going to drastically change your view of the world."

I stared at her dumbly, I felt like my co-worker Danielle. I finally mustered another question. "How do you know my name?"

"I've been searching for you for a long time," she said cryptically.

"Why?"

She sighed and it was her turn to study me for a minute, as if deciding if she was really going to explain. Finally she bowed and shook her head, resigned. (Huh, cats could look resigned.) "Bunny, there are a lot of things in this world that the human race is not aware of."

"Like talking cats?"

She gave a curt laugh. (Cats could also laugh.) "Yes, like talking cats. Though I'm not like most cats, there are very few of my kind."

"You don't say?" I mocked, but she ignored me and continued, her voice sounding much graver now. "Bunny, there are... forces in this world that are seeking destroy it."

"Destroy what?"

She gave me a "are you serious?" kind of look before slowly replying, "... The world."

"Oh, right. Listen, don't you look at me that way! It's 6:30 in the morning, and I'd only had about and hour and a half of nightmare filled sleep before a CAT came through my window and started TALKING to me."

"You were having a nightmare? Is that why you screamed?" She asked, completely ignoring the rest of my rant.

"No, I screamed cause I was dreaming about puppies and kitties. Though after tonight I don't think any of my dreams about cats will be pleasant anymore, or the same, anyway."

She just stared at me, clearly not appreciating my sarcasm. I sighed. "Yes, I was having a nightmare."

"What about?" She seemed to be leaning in, listening with great intent.

"Oh... Um I dunno, it seemed like it was about some kind of weird war... I don't really remember that well." That was a lie, I remembered every freaking second of that horrible dream, but I didn't really want to rehash the images that had scared me shitless with a talking cat I barely knew.

She nodded, as if carefully processing this. Then, with absolutely no warning, she laid it on me. "Bunny you are the legendary Sailor Solider, Sailor Moon. You are the leader of a chosen group of women charged to protect this planet – with your very lives if need be. Earth is in danger, a very ancient and completely evil force has awoken and is plotting to conquer and possibly destroy Earth, as we know it. It is your destiny and your duty to fight this evil and protect the people of this planet." She stepped forward on the bed, as if to re-present herself to me. "My name is Luna, I am your guardian cat. It is my duty to guide you and train you for the battle ahead."

My mouth hung open so long I'm pretty sure a fly landed on my tongue... a couple of times.

"Okay... So, say that again. But... slower."

Luna, as she said she was called, growled in annoyance and then did the coolest trick I had ever seen a cat do (other than talk.) She jumped into the air, flipped around a few times until this golden light started to swirl around with her, and when she landed a small, pretty, ornately decorated broach sat in front of her.

"It will be a whole lot easier to show you what I'm talking about rather than explain. Take the broach."

I reached a hand out and gingerly picked it up. My hands felt instantly warm, and then the warmth traveled up my arms, up to my head and down my back until it had surged through my entire body. Whoa. I knew two things about this thing the moment I touched it: it was powerful, and it was mine.

"Now hold it in the air and repeat after me-"

"Seriously?" I asked, that sounded pretty lame.

"YES – *seriously*," She hissed.

I rolled my eyes and raised the thing in the air. Luna was kind of a bitch. But whatever, I was re-convinced that I was dreaming again so I thought, what the heck?

People, I have one very serious, and very sage piece of advice for you. When a talking cat asks you to wave a broach in the air and repeat after her, please, make SURE you're not dreaming.

"Moon Prism Power... MAKE UP!"

"MOON PRISM POWER... MAKE UP!"

The room disappeared behind a haze of dazzling gold. My whole body froze as if I had been instantly paralyzed, waves of heat rolled through my insides, and every inch of my skin buzzed. But just as I was about to try to break free of the invisible bonds holding me, it was over. The gold cleared from my vision and I could move again. But what I saw in the mirror I stood in front of, and what I felt from my hair down to my toes was completely different than what it had been just moments before.

My sushi pajamas were gone, and in their place a very odd, very skimpy uniform of sorts hugged my body at every curve. The outfit looked like one of those "sexy sailor" costumes you can buy at Ricky's. It consisted of a white leotard trimmed by a very short blue skirt. And by short I mean, barely covering my butt, I thanked God I wasn't well endowed in that area. The top was just like a sailor's shirt, except the blue V-neck plunged down just to the top of my cleavage, below which a huge red bow rested, perfectly spanning the width of my breasts (this area I AM well endowed in.) At the center was the broach, only now it was pretty large, whereas before it had been necklace-sized. To top it all off on my feet were a pair of bright red hooker boots that came up to my knees and fit my calves as closely as the white elbow-length red-trimmed gloves fit my arms. I had to say; all in all I looked pretty hot.

But then I saw my hair, and I almost cried. My hair is blonde and normally comes about down to my boobs, but now my hair was much, MUCH longer. It nearly reached the floor and probably would have if not for the ridiculous way it was styled. It was now wrapped in two small buns, one on either side of the very top of my head. Nested within the center of the bunts were what looked like two large, red buttons. The long waves of my remaining hair trailed down from the buns.

It was exactly the same hairstyle my mom used to force on me up until high school. I actually thought it looked really cute, but the hair and my first name, (and my last name for that matter) all became too much to bear at some point. One fragile young ego can only take but so much teasing.

"Okay Luna, what kind of joke is this? I look like a role-playing prostitute."

Luna gasped. "Bunny! That uniform is sacred and deserves the utmost respect, it marks you as one of the chosen warriors, a champion of justice, and most importantly as part of the Her Majesty's Royal Guard." She sounded really serious and I would have absolutely taken her seriously except she actually put one paw to her chest as humans do to show that they're shocked or appalled. But on a tiny little kitty just barely bigger than a kitten, it was really freaking cute. I almost cracked a smile, but saw her eye twitch and thought better of it. Then I registered what she had said.

"Her majesty? Royal Guard?"

"Yes. Her Majesty Princess Serenity of the Moon Kingdom, daughter of Queen Serenity and heir to the throne of the Silver Millennium. She is somewhere on this Earth, and it is your mission to find her, and protect her."

I scratched my head. "Wait, I thought my mission was to defeat that evil you were talking about before?" A princess? I couldn't help it. I smiled.

Luna's eyes narrowed. "That is also your mission, you have two."

"Riiight." I turned to look in the mirror again and barely recognized myself. Then I looked again, harder, and realized that I actually didn't recognize myself at all. My face was still mine, but I just couldn't compare it to my own in any way, like a mental block of some kind.

I must have been squinting at my features because Luna offered an explanation. "The same magic that transforms you also casts a spell to prevent anyone from recognizing you. You could meet your own mother in this form and she would have no clue who you were."

"Huh," I said dumbly. "That's pretty neat. I feel different too, what's up with that?"

Luna cocked her head to side. "Your body is infused with the broach's magic, with the powers of a sailor solider..."

"Sailor Moon."

"Yes. Sailor Moon."

I turned around to test the exact length of my skirt. "So... What, I'm some kind of super hero?"

"*Yes*," she sounded exasperated. "That is exactly what you are."

My vision did seem clearer, MUCH clearer. In fact I could see all the way outside my window to a blue bird resting on a tree branch – and it was dark. Everything around me seemed more... *tangible* too. I don't know how else to put it. It was like I was hyper aware of every object in the room, when Luna blinked; I registered it, even from the corner of my eye. The same hyper awareness went for my hearing and sense of smell as well. Speaking of which, something really stank outside.

Whoa, this was getting seriously weird. I sunk down on the bed and stretched out my legs. Did they seem longer? Wondering if any other part of my body was different, I pulled the top part of my outfit down a little to take a peek at my breasts. Yup, they were definitely bigger.

Luna's eyes narrowed. "I am getting the feeling that you are not grasping the gravity of our situation."

I released my collar and looked up at her. "I'm trying, Luna but I'm having a really hard time accepting that any of this is real... Though this uniform is really making me want to buy a sailor costume for the next time I..."

Luna glared at me. I swallowed. "... For the next time I... fight... crime?"

Luna "tisked" in disgust. I was starting to get the vibe that she was kind of a prude, along with being kind of a bitch. And not the fun kind, like Raye. The stick-up-her-ass kind.

But just as I was about to say as much, a very loud, high-pitched scream sounded from outside my apartment. Luna and I looked at each other in shock. But where as my eyes were filled with confusion, hers were filled with fear. Before I could ask what the matter was the woman screamed again, only this time she continued to scream in short, powerful gasps, so loud that I had to cover my newly sensitive ears.

"Bunny! She could be being attacked! You have go to her – now!" Luna commanded.

"Attacked? Me? What are you talking about?" I asked, suddenly panicked at the suggestion that *I* go down to check on her. "Shouldn't I just call the police?"

"No!" She hissed. "Bunny this is what I have been trying to tell you. The enemy is not one the police can stop, right now you are the only one with the power to fight them!"

Now I was scared, and even more confused, but the woman downstairs kept screaming and I've never been the kind of person who turned the other way when someone else was in trouble. Finally with a curse I headed towards my door.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs! To see what the hell is wrong with her!"

Luna shook her head. "And have everyone in your building see Sailor Moon come out of your door? I don't think so. You have to jump out the window."

I looked at her as if she was a talking cat. Oh wait, she was. "You're shitting me, right?"

Suddenly Luna's eyes were pleading. "Bunny, please, just do as I say and get down there." Damn it. I was a sucker for sad animals. I was going to die over a pair of cute kitty eyes.

But I opened my window and with a deep breath, I jumped from my sixth story apartment. I know it sounds crazy that I did this with so little argument, but for one I still thought I was dreaming, and for two, there was SOMETHING, some part of the energy now running through my body that compelled me to jump, compelled me to help.

To my utter shock and amazement, I landed on my feet- without shattering my legs. In fact, I landed more softly than I would have jumping down just two steps, let alone six stories. But before I could process this, I was fully assaulted with the horrible smell that had hit me back in my room. It was so rank I almost doubled over and ralphed from the exaggerated smell of it to my hyper sensitive nose. This whole accelerated senses thing could really prove to be more inconvenient than advantageous. I stalked towards the source of the smell, making sure to only breath through my mouth. I rounded the corner behind my building to the little ally where we threw our trash. Great, more trash. But even that couldn't have possibly accounted for such a foul stench. I discovered my superintendent, Ms. Addle, huddled in a ball against one wall of the ally. She had stopped screaming, but she was clutching her cell phone and was definitely in shock. She looked up at me quizzically, and then I remembered what Luna had said about people not being able to recognize me once I had 'transformed.'

I held up my hands to show her I meant no harm. "I'm here to help." I clarified, though I wasn't sure exactly how I supposed to help this poor terrified woman.

"I called the cops," she choked out. "It's in there," she continued in a whisper, pointing to one of the large trash containers. I walked over to it cautiously, not sure what to expect. "I was just taking out the trash..." she reasoned in a small and broken voice. I lifted the top, looked down, and then I actually did throw up.

There in the trash was a shriveled corpse, and it was wearing a Ben's Beer Barn t-shirt and apron. It was the teenage bus boy, the one who hadn't shown up to work the past few days. And he would never show up anywhere ever again.

*~*~*~*

The sun had started to rise when the cops arrived. Their doors slammed and their radios crackled as they took inventory of the scene.

I sat in the fetal position on my bed.

Seeing decaying and mangled corpses on episodes of Bones was one thing, seeing one in real life was a whole different ball game.

I wasn't talking and Luna was getting frustrated, though her tone wasn't quite as harsh as it had been when she had been speaking to me earlier. I finally meet her eyes and tried to focus on what she was saying. She was asking me what I'd seen. I shuddered.

"Bunny, I can see that you are obviously distressed, but it is imperative that you tell me. I know this must be hard for you, having to deal with so much so fast..." She trailed off as if she couldn't find an appropriate way to justify it. Then she just said, "but you must. You are the chosen warrior, Sailor Moon."

I held my head in my hands. "You keep saying that but I have no--" I halted and replayed the words she'd said. SAILOR. I was SAILOR MOON? I laughed out loud.

"Bunny?"

I couldn't stop. I picked up the tiny cat and kissed her on the head. "Oh my God, of course! I am an idiot! I'm Sailor Moon, right?" Luna nodded like you would nod to a psych patient. "Right! Of course! Like SAILOR V, right? That vigilante on the news? The one they're basing that new Wii game on?"

"Oh... yes. Yes, she might very well be one of us. I've had trouble locating her, however." I cracked up.

"Bunny, WHAT is so funny?"

"Funny? My brain is a freaking riot. It all makes sense. I saw a piece about Sailor V on the news yesterday; my last name is LUNE, which means MOON, right? And your name is LUNA! So of *course* I'm SAILOR MOON!" I burst into another fit of giggles.

Then something sharp scraped against my cheek. HARD.

"OW!" I screamed as Luna scratched me for the second time. She was standing on my chest, her eyes boring straight into mine.

"Bunny," she started in a cold soft hiss. "You are not dreaming. This is real. I am real, and whatever you saw down there is real. I wish that it had never come to this. I wish there was no reason for me to awaken you. But unfortunately, that is not the case. Bunny if you do not accept your responsibilities this world is doomed. THIS is what you are meant to do; THIS is what you were born to do."

"What is 'this' anyway?" I answered quietly, sobered significantly by her speech. "Find dead bodies?"

"Is that what you saw down there?" Luna asked, not changing her quiet but firm intonation. I nodded. She sighed. "What did it look like?"

I shot up. "Like a dead body!" I snapped.

She was quiet for a moment. "Finding dead bodies is not your job description. Preventing them from being dead is. If you do not fight, more will die."

My eyes started to fill with tears. I got over the worst of being a crybaby when I was younger, but that didn't mean my tear ducts were sewn shut. "Luna, I'm not a fighter. I don't even know what you want me to fight!" I reached for a tissue. "What happened to Carlos, anyway?"

She shot me a sympathetic look, the first time her features had changed from their icy lock on mine. "You knew him?"

"Yeah, I think so. He was wearing a t-shirt on from the bar I work at, and an apron. It's the uniform all the bus boys wear and Carlos has been missing work for a few days now..."

Luna looked down for a minute, as if in mourning for the lost life. In fact, I think that's exactly what she was doing, but I also hadn't completely mastered interpreting cat body language yet. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "What did he look like... The body I mean."

I rolled my eyes upward to stop from crying again. "Umm, like, shriveled? Like the life had been sucked out of him, along with everything else inside of him..."

Luna shook her head. "No, they'll find all of his insides... just dried out." She stopped because I must have looked like I was about to throw up again. I don't have a weak stomach, but with the nasal and visual aid to add to her description...

"What did they do to him?" I asked quietly.

"Well it was an 'it', which works for... who knows, but it did exactly what you said, it drained the life out of him. The enemy feeds on human life in two ways. The mystical, which is your essence, basically the magic that keeps you going, animates you, makes you human, or living in any case. The enemy can drain other things, like cats, for example, but humans are the best, the most complex."

"So kind of like your soul?" I guessed.

She shook her head and gave a small smile that seemed almost rueful. "No, they'd love to get their claws on our souls, but luckily it has proved to be more or less untouchable. No, simply put, they feed on our energy. The second thing is... physical. They exsanguinate us, Bunny."

I blanched. "You mean... Carlos... they took his energy, and drained his blood?"

Luna nodded gravely. "Yes, blood, physically, is life to us. So the combination of our energy and our blood, that's the enemy's power source, that's what they're gathering."

"Who are they? Who is this 'enemy?'"

"That's what I've been trying to find out. They need our life force, so that must be what is powering them. Right now they have only dispatched individual monsters that are sent out into the city as gatherers."

I looked outside the window. It was almost 8 AM by now and I was exhausted. I could tell by the voices outside that they'd allowed Ms. Addle to leave, but of course the ally had been sectioned off and cops were swarming the place. They'd probably question everyone in my building. But they wouldn't find anything... Poor Carlos was dead and his parents would never know who killed him or why.

"This really isn't a dream."

I was still staring out the window at the rising sun. Today, it was rising on a world that was completely unfamiliar to me.

"Luna... I need time to process this... and I need to sleep."

"But Bunny--!" she began to protest.

"Please, Luna? I don't function well when I haven't slept, and I have class in a few hours too." It was the truth. I'm a zombie without the right amount of sleep, and I'd already skipped too many classes to miss anymore and still salvage a good grade. Yes, I realize it was only October. School isn't my strong suit, OK?

She sighed. "All right, I'll investigate on my own, the enemy doesn't usually attack during the day, but all the same I'll use this to contact you in case I do find something." She slid a shiny gold bracelet with a pink watch face towards me on the bed. I glared at her.

"You couldn't just call my cell?" She glared right back. I sighed and took the bracelet, wondering where it had come from. Oh, that's right. 'Magic.' Duh. "How do I change back?"

"Touch the broach and focus on returning to normal. It helps if you close your eyes." I did as she said, and when I opened my eyes, sure enough, I was back in my sushi pajamas, with my normal hair, normal body proportions and normal senses. Hallelujah. The one small change was the broach, smaller again and now resting on a thin chain around my neck. "If I don't contact you earlier, I'll see you at six o'clock tonight."

"But--" I was about to protest, but when I looked up, she was gone. I shut my window with a shiver (the transformation had also made me resistant to the cold) and crawled under the covers, eager to rest my weary eyes.

I didn't dream of a crumbling kingdom again, instead I dreamed of poor Carlos's shriveled face stretched in agony as his young life was stolen from him, never to be returned. And I dreamt about how I would save him from such a creature, failing every time in any attempt I made. But as ineffectual as I was, he depended on me to help him, and I failed him all the same.

Still think being a super hero is awesome?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*


End file.
